Harry Potter: I Am a Legend

Miranda was studying the flow spell beside Hoffa, her expression changing unpredictably.

The indigenous Peruvian wizards came and went around them, carrying tables, futons, baskets, animal legs and the like. They seemed to be preparing for some activity, and everyone had a look of excitement on their faces.

Hoffa sat alone in the chair for a while, and gradually recovered some strength, but his energy remained sluggish. What he desires most now is to remain motionless, and no one will disturb him.

It's a pity that things backfired.

In a short while, the old chief Inhanio led a group of tribal women and hurried to Hoffa and Miranda. He stood beside Hoffa's chair, bent over, and looked at him in admiration and anxiety: "Hero, dare to ask if you are free."

Hoffa glanced at him, only remembering what this man was called Inha...

"What's the matter?" he asked tiredly, his eyes out of focus.

The old chief Inhanio suddenly came to his spirits, and he slapped his chest excitedly, "This is not about solving the **** sleepwalkers and saving our plantation. It just so happens that today is our harvest festival again, if possible, I would like to ask You stay here for one night to participate in our harvest ceremony."

After Hoffa finished using the Flowing Mantra, he was exhausted physically and mentally. Hearing a lot of the old man's babble, he only felt that it was too noisy. If he was allowed to make a decision, he would feel even more powerless.

He doesn't want to think for the time being, he just wants to stay in his chair.

So he hummed twice, expressing his vague wishes.

Fortunately, there was a sober Miranda beside him. Miranda stood up and said with her arms akimbo: "Hey, Inhanio, don't bully him. Your harvest festival is clearly until next month."

The old chief said, "This is not a superfluous act. It will solve those sleepwalkers. This year will definitely be a bumper harvest. Do you still have to think about it? Besides, the previous harvest festival was set by the previous chieftain. It is out of time. I I wanted to change it a long time ago."

Miranda raised her brows suspiciously, and Inhanio immediately took a step forward, "What are you doing in such a hurry to go back, you know, you haven't counted the stock of green cocoa here. If you don't count the inventory, how can we discuss it? What about the price?"

Miranda frowned and raised her brow, "Odd? Would you let me check your inventory? Didn't you prevent me from stepping into the warehouse within 100 meters before putting it on the absolute forbidden area of ​​your tribe?"

"Uh...this..."

The old man rolled his eyes and turned to Hoffa, whose eyes were sluggish. He immediately slapped his chest. "Isn't this better to integrate with the market? Since you really have the ability to protect us, we naturally I want to give you more permissions."

"what!"

Miranda rolled her eyes, "All right."

She bent down and pressed Hoffa's ears and said, "We will stay here for one night. I want to check their storage of green cocoa so that I can set a price for the goods. What do you think?"

Hoffa didn't want to make a decision, he sucked, and said the simplest um. There was no more text, and saliva came out again.

......

......

That night.

A full moon rises high in the mountains of southern Peru.

Under the light, the mountains were caged with a mysterious luster.

Miranda was taken by the Peruvian tribal wizard Inhaniola to count the inventory of green cocoa. Hoffa was left alone in the chair, drooling, wandering between thinking and blank mystery.

The village was cleared out of a clearing for the boss, and a fire was placed every few meters on the clearing. Some men led the cow to the fire. They pressed the cow to the ground, cut the cow’s throat, kneeled on the ground, held their heads high, and took turns taking the cow’s blood.

Both men and women, young and old, stepped forward to share a cup.

Then, they slaughtered the cattle. Peel the skin and clean the internal organs, cut open and bake on the fire.

This is just the first step, and soon those people will get busy. All kinds of animals and plants were made, alpacas, guinea pigs, raw fish, all kinds of grains, and colorful...potatoes.

In the moonlight, they started cooking happily.

The smoke floated into the sky, clouding the moon.

After a while, the aboriginal ceremony began.

After cooking, they began to sing and dance around the food. They are both male and female, each wearing straw skirts and walking barefoot on the sand.

The men sat on the ground, happily beating the drums, and screaming like animals from time to time, which seemed primitive and vicissitudes of life.

With the sound of drums, the women arched their legs, twisted their waists, and put their hands on top of their heads, interpreting body language in the simplest and oldest dance posture, communicating with the gods and nature.

The fire light applied to their thighs and skin, covering their brown skin with a layer of gold.

I have to say that in terms of health, these indigenous people living in primitive areas are healthier than those living in the steel jungle. Their teeth are neat, their thighs are slender and tight, their muscles are well developed, and their bodies are all. It is the standard golden ratio.

The dance and the banquet lasted for a long time, and Hoffa sat on the chief's chair, motionless, with no intention of joining the event, like a statue.

He has not recovered much, or that his spirit has recovered some, but not much remains in reality.

Hoffa could perceive that a part of his spirit still existed in the so of the heart flow curse, which made him unable to distract his attention from foreign objects, so what those people were doing was like a background board to him.

He can vaguely see the dance steps of those people and their singing, but he can't focus on a specific person or thing, everything is vague.

The only thing that is clear is thinking.

It is like a brook, flowing unhurriedly.

And Hoffa was sitting by the river, watching the flow of thought, there was no hindrance, no fluctuations.

Occasionally, he would have an inspiration and think of Silby.

If he had this spell, would Silby sit on a chair in the same thousand years of time, immersed in the mystery of the flow of heart.

If the spell he only watched halfway.

So what is the other half?

If Silby can experience the complete spell, is he always in bliss?

What does the complete flow mantra look like?

......

......

Wow, rumbling...

The clapping and drum beats gradually invaded Hoffa's thinking from far to near.

He slowly raised his head from the thinking stream.

Seeing that in the real world, the indigenous people didn't know when they would no longer gather around the fire to dance, but instead ran to him.

They raised a bunch of raging flames beside Hoffa. The flame was burnt from many unknown husks, exuding a strong nutty scent, and it smelled very nice.

Then, an extremely old woman walked out of the crowd, her piggyback on her back, towering high.

Her hands tremblingly held something like a crown. There were six feathers of different colors on the crown, and the skull of an eagle.

Hoffa felt a little uncomfortable seeing that thing.

He is a student of Ravenclaw, the eagle is his totem, and his Animagus is a thunderbird. He doesn't like the act of using the totem body as a decoration.

But out of the courtesy of the guests and to respect local customs, he did not move. Let the old woman put that peculiar feather crown on his head.

It's not over yet, after the old woman put on his head crown, she used thin fingers, stained with various oil paints, and painted on his face.

After doing all this, the native wizard cheered.

Hoffa smiled reluctantly and cooperated with them. But I wanted to leave in my heart.

After the old woman retired, several young, graceful brown-skinned women came up. They slowly walked forward, holding the iron plate, as if facing the Inca king, offering him food.

Someone brought food, and Hoffa felt very happy.

He used the flow mantra to consume a lot of mind and energy, just need to make up for it.

You can take a closer look. The food includes raw fish, potatoes, and... **** beef heart, a piece of freshly cut alpaca meat, and a lively guinea pig...

This made him feel the good mood disappeared without a trace.

If Miranda served him last time, it was rare food from all over the world, and it could indeed be eaten raw.

But Hoffa has really seen all these things, and they are not eaten raw at all.

The smell rushed towards his face. He felt that these natives were doing their own things, so he was going to leave angrily, go to Miranda, and leave here with her.

He struggled and tried to get up. But at this time he found that on the chair he was sitting on, there were many densely packed little people growing up. They babbled, like a tug-of-war, clutching the fibers of Hoffa’s clothes and pressing him heavily on the chair.

Ok?

He shook his head vigorously.

However, he found that his body was numb, unable to move.

Looking at the flame again, he felt bad.

That smoke, the smoke that the indigenous people burned in front of him, used materials with a strong hallucinogenic effect.

Several young women were getting closer and closer with their plates.

Hoffa became even more disgusted, not only because the other party invaded his territory and forced him to escape from the state of flow, and was disgusted, but also because of their behavior when they were at risk.

What is this going to do? Feed yourself raw food, or treat yourself as an object of sacrifice.

Maybe the latter.

Those women are getting closer and closer to him.

The men continue to dance, holding hands. Speaking in a language that I don’t understand, no communication. They took torches, beat the drums, and walked and jumped around him in circles.

The circle shrinks and shrinks, and the men clapping and drumming are getting closer and closer, and Hoffa, who is closer, can smell the sweat on them.

"Damn..."

Under the narcotic smoke, he struggled to lift his eyelids.

This simple movement frightened the group of dancing male natives and took a big step back.

Wow, rumbling...

But the dance was not over yet, and the male natives seemed to be deliberately testing his patience. They danced for a while and saw that he did not continue to move. They beat the drums again, getting closer and closer to him. But as long as Hoffa showed a little dissatisfaction, they immediately backed away.

So cycle.

They looked curiously at Hoffa sitting on the chief's seat, looking like a group of monkeys watching the sleeping King Kong. It was like a hyena again, staring at the food beside the lion.

Those indigenous men are not the most annoying. An indigenous woman took out a small silver dagger and cut off a piece of the heart of a cow. In the blood, she held the heart of the cow in her mouth and wanted to feed it mouth-to-mouth. Hoffa.

Although the woman looks very **** and healthy, this way of eating is totally unbearable and too challenging.

Wow, rumbling...

The dancing and drumming continued, and the woman's lips with the heart were getting closer and closer to Hoffa.

He looked down as hard as he could, looking at his fingers. (In the hallucinogenic drugs, his blood rushes like a river, making him blush. Next to his fingers, there are hundreds of little girls. They smiled and pulled Hoffa’s fingers and fixed him on the chair.)

"Counter...Countercurrent..."

He spit out a word with difficulty.

Suddenly, the woman with the cow's heart backed down and walked down the steps. Smoke sprayed from Hoffa's nostrils. The male indigenous men who danced and played drums turned in circles counterclockwise.

An old woman walked back backwards with her back to the crowd, and put her hand on the feather crown on top of Hoffa's head.

It all went back to the second when Hoffa was put on the feather crown.

But this time he didn't make much sense anymore, riding on the hallucinogenic smoke and still not accumulating a lot in his body. Hoffa struggled to stand up and kicked away the old woman who was about to wear his crown.

The old woman screamed and rolled around on the ground.

Hoffa also used too much force, and his body was exhausted, and he rolled from his chair to the sand.

After landing, he quickly held his breath, stumbled to his feet, and rushed to where Miranda left.

He must find Miranda and ask her to quickly take himself out of this weird place.

Sitting on the throne of the chieftain, the "hero" who should have accepted their sacrifice ran away.

The aboriginal men were startled and stopped playing drums, and the old woman sat up from the ground. Wow yelled.

The indigenous men hurriedly put down the drums and stopped dancing. The indigenous women who were preparing food also threw away the plates and followed the men to chase them.

Under the moonlight, a strange picture appeared.

A black-haired young man limped on the sand. He held his crotch with one hand and his lungs with the other, panting heavily. And behind him followed a large number of indigenous people.

The side effects of the Flowing Curse made Hoffa completely unable to run fast, and the psychedelic smoke that those **** natives breathed on him made him unconscious. He only felt that the blood flow was getting faster and faster, and his heartbeat was getting faster and faster, as if he was about to jump out of his chest.

The natives yelled closer and closer to him.

Hoffa raised his hand and was a hundredfold stasis, making them slow as a tortoise.

However, use the power of time in this state.

The energy consumed was huge. He fell to the ground, fell on the sand, the sweat on his forehead wet his hair.

In the thick smoke, he looked at the moon in the sky out of breath.

The big moon seemed to mock him.

I don't regret it after asking him.

Indeed, he was free from the curse of the night **** and became like a normal person, not feeling abnormal during the day and night.

But he did not have the blessing of the night god, he would not feel unlimited energy at night, nor would he have an amazing, invincible physique.

"Damn..."

He rolled over and crawled to the warehouse of the indigenous Peruvians. He remembered Miranda and the chief who were there to count the green cocoa.